Ficlet: Plots and Plans
Aug. 30th, 2008 12:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanTitle: Plots and Plans
Fandom/original: Original
Characters: Stella and Nicolas Willoughby
Rating: G-PGish
A/N: Just a little ficlet with the teenaged twins.
“Well.” Stella glanced over the papers. “It has… possibilities.”
Nicolas rolled his eyes. “How about brilliant, hm? Go on, you can say it.”
“You clearly need no encouragement from me, since you’ve thoroughly congratulated yourself.” The comment was almost absent as she drew a line through part of what he’d written, and added something in the margin. “Though I do admit, it’s more imaginative than your usual project.”
“What, you don’t like hunting anymore?” He leaned against her desk. Her study was neat, cozy. It was a great deal like their father’s, but with more books. “Kind of a shame, since you’re such a crack shot.”
“Yes, well, it’s not as if we’re running short of food.” She frowned a bit, and tapped one part of the page with her index finger. “What does this mean?”
“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing important.”
She glanced up at him. “Oh?”
He didn’t blush, because clearly young men of fifteen did not blush. “Just a personal note.”
“The hostler’s daughter is a redhead, hm?”
Nicolas blinked. “How did you… Um. Yes.”
She folded her hands. “Nikolai…”
“No, she has nothing to do with the plan.” He scowled. “I’m not that easily distracted.”
“Mhm.” Stella considered her twin’s notes. “I suppose, then, the question is what you ultimately hope to accomplish. While I grant you that the governor’s son is a nuisance, he’ll also be missed. You don’t mean to rob him, so…” She looked up at him with an arched brow. “If it isn’t about the hostler’s daughter, what is it about?”
“He’s a bad person. Isn’t that enough?” he asked, irritated,
“Not if you want my help. Hunting for food is one thing, but I’m not interested in killing for sport.”
He scowled harder. “You won’t just trust me?”
Stella’s features had never been truly childish, but now more sharp than ever since she'd reached adolesence. They did not flinch. “As far as you trust yourself. He said something to upset you, didn’t he.”
“I wasn’t upset. Gods. I just…”
Stella’s eyebrows raised higher still.
Nicolas muttered, looking down, “He said something lewd about you in front of me.”
Stella blinked, then she laughed. “I see.”
Offended, Nicolas said, “I can’t think what’s so funny.”
“Even if I couldn’t defend myself, which you know I can, I pity the man who would have to cope with both you and Papa, after hurting me.” She added a few small notes to the bottom of Nicolas’ page. “But your chivalry is flattering. And if you truly wish to go rearrange his face, I suppose I can be bothered to help you. I rather fancy a holiday.”
“Holiday?” He grinned. “I didn’t know you had a job.”
“Some of us endeavor to improve ourselves even without tutors checking our work constantly.”
Nicolas caught her hand. “How did my twin get to be forty years older than me? Come on, cook’s making pasties and she’ll give us some dough if we hurry. Unless you’re too busy being clever.”
She laughed. “Well, I guess I could be persuaded.” She took the notes with her other hand, slid them into a nondescript portfolio, and let her brother lead her down to the kitchens, both of them smiling easily.
Fandom/original: Original
Characters: Stella and Nicolas Willoughby
Rating: G-PGish
A/N: Just a little ficlet with the teenaged twins.
“Well.” Stella glanced over the papers. “It has… possibilities.”
Nicolas rolled his eyes. “How about brilliant, hm? Go on, you can say it.”
“You clearly need no encouragement from me, since you’ve thoroughly congratulated yourself.” The comment was almost absent as she drew a line through part of what he’d written, and added something in the margin. “Though I do admit, it’s more imaginative than your usual project.”
“What, you don’t like hunting anymore?” He leaned against her desk. Her study was neat, cozy. It was a great deal like their father’s, but with more books. “Kind of a shame, since you’re such a crack shot.”
“Yes, well, it’s not as if we’re running short of food.” She frowned a bit, and tapped one part of the page with her index finger. “What does this mean?”
“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing important.”
She glanced up at him. “Oh?”
He didn’t blush, because clearly young men of fifteen did not blush. “Just a personal note.”
“The hostler’s daughter is a redhead, hm?”
Nicolas blinked. “How did you… Um. Yes.”
She folded her hands. “Nikolai…”
“No, she has nothing to do with the plan.” He scowled. “I’m not that easily distracted.”
“Mhm.” Stella considered her twin’s notes. “I suppose, then, the question is what you ultimately hope to accomplish. While I grant you that the governor’s son is a nuisance, he’ll also be missed. You don’t mean to rob him, so…” She looked up at him with an arched brow. “If it isn’t about the hostler’s daughter, what is it about?”
“He’s a bad person. Isn’t that enough?” he asked, irritated,
“Not if you want my help. Hunting for food is one thing, but I’m not interested in killing for sport.”
He scowled harder. “You won’t just trust me?”
Stella’s features had never been truly childish, but now more sharp than ever since she'd reached adolesence. They did not flinch. “As far as you trust yourself. He said something to upset you, didn’t he.”
“I wasn’t upset. Gods. I just…”
Stella’s eyebrows raised higher still.
Nicolas muttered, looking down, “He said something lewd about you in front of me.”
Stella blinked, then she laughed. “I see.”
Offended, Nicolas said, “I can’t think what’s so funny.”
“Even if I couldn’t defend myself, which you know I can, I pity the man who would have to cope with both you and Papa, after hurting me.” She added a few small notes to the bottom of Nicolas’ page. “But your chivalry is flattering. And if you truly wish to go rearrange his face, I suppose I can be bothered to help you. I rather fancy a holiday.”
“Holiday?” He grinned. “I didn’t know you had a job.”
“Some of us endeavor to improve ourselves even without tutors checking our work constantly.”
Nicolas caught her hand. “How did my twin get to be forty years older than me? Come on, cook’s making pasties and she’ll give us some dough if we hurry. Unless you’re too busy being clever.”
She laughed. “Well, I guess I could be persuaded.” She took the notes with her other hand, slid them into a nondescript portfolio, and let her brother lead her down to the kitchens, both of them smiling easily.
